Micro Lives
by SunFrost1034
Summary: (A few short chapters introducing some of my micronation OC's, no real story yet, sorry)
1. Frestonia

My name is Frestonia.

I'm just ten years old.

And my life is a living hell.

Sure, living with my big brother isn't so bad…even if he does ignore me a lot of the time. But really, that's what makes it great! Doing whatever I want, with no one telling me to not to do it.

It'd be even better if I didn't have to take into account my appearance. I mean, seriously, who in the world has to be born with blue hair and red eyes? The universe surely loathes me for making me look like a freak.

But enough about that…I shall tell you something about myself. I'm a former micronation, living south of London. I'm a huge fan of tennis…or, to put it more accurately, tennis has been a fan of me. There was a brief period where I was constantly getting struck by tennis balls that would mysteriously fall out of the sky.

Anyway, that's about it. Besides the fact that I can talk to dead people and I can hack into just about any electronic device, no matter how well – armed it is. And I love American rock music. It's the best in the world – so full of life and so catchy, too!

Oh…dead people. Right…yeah, I can do that. I don't like to talk about it much, because it is a power that scares even me. I suppose that's the downside of being Britain's little brother – you kind of inherit his abilities of magic or whatever.

So far, it's the only gift of mine that has surfaced, and I'm thankful for that. It's not like I asked to be able to talk to the dead, but I can't control who I am. Still, that being the only "magical" thing that I can do is good. Any more than that and I'd have killed myself by now.

And now that you know a little about my life…er, well…if I had a life, that is. Technically, I should not even exist. I was dissolved so many years ago, my town being broken up. Maybe the universe took pity on me for once in my short life and allowed me to not fade away.

But I doubt that. No one takes pity on a person that does not belong on this earth. There must be a greater purpose behind it. I am determined to find it.


	2. Kingdom of Elleore

My name is Elleore. Officially, the Kingdom of Elleore

A pleasure to meet you…

Normally, I'd be off on a park bench reading _Sherlock _(say what you will, he is amazing) or gorging myself on the best food in the world: those damn Danish pastries. But seeing as you bothered to come here, I might as well say a few words.

I'm a micronation located north of Roskilde, and I'm unoccupied for most of the year, which gives me more than enough time to explore the fjord and think. Yes, I said thinking. Unlike my idiot brother _Danmark_, I am a very serious woman. However, I am unable to deny my love for his food.

I prefer speaking Danish over English, unless I just have to speak in English, like right now. I also know a bit of French, which is a very lovely language, I might add. I enjoy hiking and swimming and, of course, reading.

Next to the Danish pastry, shoes, and Confucius, reading is one of the better things that brighten this dark and weary world that we all live in. I usually don't believe in any sort of god, but I am more than willing to put that aside when I say that libraries are an extraordinary gift from the heavens.

Alright, I have told you about myself. What more do you want to know?

Well, I live in Copenhagen a lot, except for the brief time when people travel to my island and celebrate. Then I am almost always there, watching from behind the scenes and celebrating after hours.

What? I can have fun too. Just because I like to read does _ikke gore mig kedelig_. Sorry…I have an annoying habit of slipping into Danish whenever I get even mildly upset. I said reading not does make me boring.

Snowball fights are a great way to relieve severe tension, to me. Why, I had a snowball fight last week with some children in the park. It was cold, but delightful. Thank you.


	3. Aramoana

Sup, all you kids out there! I'm Aramoana, but you can call me Ara. I don't give a shit what you call me, honestly.

Ouch…sorry, my boss just smacked me for cussing. I apologize.

So, yeah, like, whatever you wanna knows about me? I can say it. Go on, don't be shy, and just ask me.

…Maybe I shoulda just tell you instead, my boss is giving me The Stare. Ok! Well, for instance, I love skateboarding. No one's better at it than I am. Yeah, in fact, if you don't believe me, let's go down to the skate ring right now and - ….I apologize again. Geez, my boss…

Um…ok…I'm just a lowly micronation in New Zealand…don't pay any attention to me at all…uh…I have no idea what to say now. But I suppose one thing I could tell you about is the long scar on my chest.

It's all part of the Aramoana Massacre. You see, it happened in the crazy nineties, at the start of it, anyway. That was a scary day. I was a lot younger back then, not even close to 13! Yeah…so I was just heading downtown to get some ice cream when this enormous pain hit me, and I remembering that I was gasping for air and (sort of) flailing on the ground. Only later did I realize that it was all the deaths of those innocent people – _my people_ – that caused the pain.

Back then, I didn't have a very good understanding of what I was, and what could affect me. Now this scar will never really go away, a bitter reminder of the day that I was forced to wake up and learn about my reality.

Wow…that was so depressing. How abouts I cheer you up, kay? I'm just a regular teenage guy that likes all the regular teen stuff, like cute girls and horror movies and World of Warcraft.

Yeah, I'm pretty much a love guru. Anything you wanna know about them girls, just come to me. I'll give you the latest scoop on who is hot…and…who's not. Come on down, you won't die.

Maybe…


End file.
